


Last Resort

by Starrie_Wolf



Series: Sheith KINKtober 2017 [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Keith has financial difficulties, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 03:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20400871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: “I don’t understand. Why isn’t he on a Garrison scholarship?”Matt peers up at him through his glasses, tapping at the distressing number of blanks that should have contained the details for Keith’s family, or next-of-kin, orsomeone. “Does he even know there is one?





	Last Resort

**Author's Note:**

> Day 12  
AU: Strip Club  
Trope: Pining  
Kink: Nipple Play
> 
> Uploading my Tumblr fics done for Sheith KINKtober 2017. All prompts provided by the Imagine Your OTP web generator. Find the full list [HERE](https://accidentallydidathing.tumblr.com/post/166986256928/sheith-kinktober-2017).

_The worst thing about this crush_, Shiro thinks as he ducks into the strip club, fighting down a blush, _is how utterly low it’s brought him._

Matt must never find out.

* * *

When Shiro had finally gathered up the courage to follow Keith into the strip club he’s seen him occasionally frequent (ignoring the tiny voice muttering _stalker_ at the back of his head, sounding very much like Matt), he’d been, you know – hoping he’d casually bump into Keith, maybe offer to buy him a drink.

Instead, he’s sitting at the bar alone, nursing a single beer, and trying to figure out which deity he must’ve offended in a past life.

Because Keith isn’t a client.

He’s an _employee_.

* * *

“Would you like a private lap dance, sir?”

“Uh –” _say no, his brain screams_ “– ye-yeah. Sure.”

Keith smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and the grip he has on Shiro’s wrist is on the wrong side of too-tight.

* * *

Keith’s palm skates over his pecs, teasing at his nipples, but his body is twisted away, and what little Shiro can see of his face is expressionless.

He blindly shoves $50 into the tiny thong Keith’s wearing when it ends, and flees the establishment as fast as his legs can possibly carry him.

* * *

The Garrison has no rules against students getting part-time employment; but then, why would it need to? Everyone Shiro knows has spent years in summer flight camps and international astrophysics competitions and NASA seminars to give them an edge over the millions of applicants the Garrison receives each year; they don’t need to do anything but focus on their studies.

Shiro doesn’t think Keith’s gotten _that_ particular memo.

“Matt? I need a favour.”

* * *

Matt types away furiously, crowing to himself at how pathetic the Garrison’s firewalls are, how even his little sister can probably break through them, how utterly pathetic Shiro’s crush has become. Shiro takes the ribbing in good nature, knowing that this was how Matt _functions_, letting his mouth run with no filter while his brain tackles the real problem.

And then, halfway through a sentence, he falls silent.

Shiro startles upright, but Matt is eerily still, the bright light of his laptop screen reflecting off his glasses.

“… Matt?” he prompts, quietly.

As though awoken by the sound of his voice, Matt blinks and shakes his head. He chews on the straw of his drink for a moment, before evidently coming to a conclusion, and spins his laptop around so that Shiro can see the screen.

“Oh,” Shiro says, a little dumbly, but he thinks he can be forgiven.

That is a _lot_ of money.

“He hasn’t paid his tuition last sem either,” Matt adds, rather unnecessarily, given that Shiro _is_ capable of basic Math, or else he won’t be a _pilot_.

“I don’t understand.” The words burst out of Shiro. “Why isn’t he on a Garrison scholarship?”

Matt peers up at him through his glasses, tapping at the distressing number of blanks that should have contained the details for Keith’s family, or next-of-kin, or _someone_. “Does he even know there _is_ one?

* * *

Ambushing Keith at his workplace is out of the question. Cornering him in the cafeteria is an even worse idea, even Matt – the undisputed King of Bad Ideas – agrees on that.

Shiro spots his chance when he sees a flash of black hair ducking into the corridor leading to the flight sims, way past curfew.

_Man up, Shirogane._

“Uh... you dropped this.” He shoves a sheaf of papers detailing the Garrison scholarship, an application form, and two signed reference letters into Keith’s hands, and prepares to flee.

Keith’s voice stops him when he reaches the end of the corridor. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you looked like you’d rather be anywhere but there,” Shiro says, truthfully. “And you shouldn’t have to do anything that you didn’t want to.”

* * *

Keith’s stopped spending every meal time with his nose buried in a textbook, which Shiro takes to be a good sign. He also doesn’t see Keith around anymore, which… he can deal with, if it means that Keith’s no longer shuttling between studying and working and can afford to spend some time doing something he actually enjoys.

One Friday afternoon, he gets a text message from Matt, with nothing but a single cryptic line: _He got it._

The next morning, there’s a piece of paper on the seat of his favourite sim shuttle, like the sender _knows_ Shiro likes to start his Saturdays with a quick flight, far earlier than most people would even get up.

_Thanks._

Shiro clutches the note to his chest and _beams_.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Discord](https://discord.gg/8yJVmbD) | [Tumblr](http://starriewolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
